


A Most Unthankful Thanksgiving

by ndmd



Category: tony the tiger - Fandom
Genre: frosted flakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 05:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndmd/pseuds/ndmd
Summary: David is not pleased to share the holidays with his mother's famous new boyfriend...





	1. New Beginnings

We met at an artsy little cafe downtown. Upon entering, I felt immediately out of place amongst the exposed pipes and fashionable hats. I fished a few dollars from my pocket and went to order something, but all they had was salad served on shovels and vegan cakes, so I sat down and waited for her with a grumbling stomach. When she showed up and spotted me sitting alone and leafing listlessly through the menu - what the fuck was a tofu steak? - she smiled and speed-walked my way, to embrace me in a cold hug.  
She casually ordered a latte and the tofu steak, and we small talked, danced around the reason for being there, until her steak came out, and i still didn’t know what it was, but only what it was certainly not - a steak of any kind.  
She parted it with her fork and took a bite, I looked at it, bewildered, and then she broke the illusion - “so, I hear you're still giving mom trouble about Tony.” I peeled my eyes from the mystery meat and looked up at her, breathing hard, suddenly, from my nose.  
“Well, tony is trouble.” she rolled her eyes at me. I rolled mine back, to show her that anyone could do it, and she gripped her fork, stabbed the tofu steak repeatedly until it fell apart.  
“He’s no good for her.” her pout deepened into a scowl. She took a sip of her latte to stall the words sitting on her tongue. “Simone, he’s a tiger. Don’t you think - don’t you think our mother should be with, you know, a man?"  
She said nothing, so I continued to spew, in a low voice so the hipsters of the cafe, listening intently from behind their macbooks, would not hear me.  
“I mean, someone that can make her feel safe, and provide for her, hold her, with human arms.” She looked at me like i was the tiger, and I looked at her like she was trying to convince me to let a tiger come to thanksgiving, because she was. “A real man.”  
“What good is a real man?” she snapped, finally. Her face was turning pink. “Dad was a real man, and look how that turned out. Why can't you just set aside your pride for the holidays?”  
I didn’t know how to honestly respond to that, without sounding like a bigot, or selfish, so instead I got up from the table. My chair screeched as i pushed it back, and I sauntered away in righteous anger as she called my name - David, David, come back, come on, David, you’re such a child.  
Well, I thought, at least I'm not a tiger, and went home to get drunk. It didn’t count as drinking alone, because i did it with my dogs all piled on top of me on my bed, trying occasionally to steal a lick of my tequila. No, i said, not for you, jerry. Not for you either, oreo. But i think they swiped enough to get tipsy, because for the rest of the night they wouldn't stop howling at the television, chasing each other’s tails and tripping over their own paws.  
I woke up with a hangover, a string of missed calls from my sister, and oreo happily licking the insides of my nostrils clean. I pushed him off, rubbed my temple and listened to her voicemail.  
“Come on, do it for mom, or youll ruin her thanksgiving.” was all she said, before it ended. I sighed, feeling myself cave. I guessed i would have to share stuffing with a tiger.

The day came, too quickly.

I was the last to arrive, because i had tried as best as i could to delay coming, by taking the long route and making frequent stops for honey buns and driving far below the speed limit, but here i was, kissing my mother on the cheek. She ushered me in, and i heard the distant roar of tony, and almost turned around, and wouldve, if not for the desperate look hiding in the crevices of my mother’s eyes. She wanted us to get along, so we would get along, and besides, i was already here and at least there was pie.  
And then he came out, dressed as he always did, with nothing but a red bandana tied around his thick, furry neck, and wearing an obnoxious smile. “Daaaavid!’ he called, approaching me. I took a wary step back.  
“You’ve got to try the grits; they’re grrrrrrreat!”

It was going to be a long meal.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony was nice, too nice. He was cordial; he passed me the cranberry sauce before I could open my mouth to ask, "because I knoooow it's your FAVORITE!" He was just reluctant enough; he kissed my mother with just the right amount of tongue (none, from what I could tell) and his smooches never exceeded a couple of seconds. He was perfect...on paper. But when I saw him wrap his arm around her waist, see her light up in domestic bliss, I turned to look at the turkey. I tapped melodies on the table. I stared at my sister, at my aunt, my phone - anything, anything - because my stomach was churning, and the stuffing was climbing my throat like an olympic rock climber, and fuck, fuck, fuck.  
After dinner, I pulled mom aside. My sister gave me a Look as I went to do so, but I pretended not to notice. We shuffled out onto the porch, into the night, and I said to her under the cover of darkness: "I don't trust him."  
She looked as though I'd reached out and slapped her. Bristling like a cat on guard, she said, "You have no right to speak to your mother that way." I felt my face heat, the way my sister's often did (it ran in the family). "No right at all."  
"Maybe not," I admitted, turning my head so as not to have to look her straight in the eye. "but men only want one thing, and he isn't fooling me."  
"I thought he wasn't a man?"  
What could I say to that?  
She reached towards me; put a soft hand on my shoulder. "You're all dressed up."  
"I'm wearing a polo, mom."  
"You're all dressed - up," she repeated. "And we're all together, for the first time, and the food turned out so well, and I am so glad you could make it, David."  
I tasted turkey at the back of my throat. I was a terrible son.  
"I ask only one thing of you - to give him a chance. Just give him a chance."  
I remained silent.  
"He's a good man."  
"He's not a man at all," i said.  
"He's got a good heart, David. That's all a man needs, yes?"  
"Men don't usually have hearts."  
She quietly let out a breath, as though she didn't want me to hear it. "He's not your father. He's not Cap'n Crunch."  
I turned away.  
"Don't you say his name."

Tony was watching the Macy's day parade when we got back inside, with a jovial, fixed smile on his face. My mother planted a kiss on my dumb forehead before she snuggled close to him. My sister was still eating, and my Aunt was chiding her for it - "you'll get fatter!" and my mother's pomeranian was licking the remains of her thanksgiving plate from where she'd left it for him on the floor.  
I wanted to try.  
I wanted to like Tony.  
But there was something about him - something so insidious that no one else seemed to pick up on it. I was like a dog seeing a ghost, while my owners watched on, laughing at my bared teeth.  
Tony looked over at me, and smiled.


End file.
